Noble Intentions: Season Three (41 page)

The media bought it. Now they had
to hope that Dottie would too.

“Looky there,” Randy said. “Ain’t
that your boyfriend?”

Clarissa shifted her gaze from the
dirt and grime covered window and the distorted view of the street to the
television. The image on the screen showed Jack being led from a house that
looked as worn down as the one they occupied. A banner scrolled along the
bottom of the screen. It said,
Prime Minister Shot
.

Could Jack have done that?

“This makes no sense.” Sinclair
rose and pulled his phone from his pocket. He left the room.

“Always knew Noble was a piece of
dog doo,” Randy said from his seat beside her.

Clarissa glanced over her shoulder
and waited for Sinclair to step outside. Randy leaned forward, closer to the
TV, as if he was inspecting the Prime Minister’s injuries himself. She brought
both of her hands up and lunged forward. Her arms wrapped around the side of
his head. Her fingernails met in the middle of his face. She raked her hands in
an outward motion, across his eyes and cheeks and ears.

Randy threw himself forward, onto
his knees and into the wall. He pulled up on the TV cart. The television toppled
over, barely missing his head and coming down on his shoulder.

Clarissa kicked him in the kidney,
followed it up with an elbow to the back of his neck. He fell against the wall,
turned. Blood from his eyebrows and forehead cascaded down his cheeks in thin
crimson lines. He wiped his face with the back of his left sleeve. In his right
hand, he held a pistol. Clarissa drove her foot into his stomach. He bowed
forward. She grabbed the back of his head, struck him three times in the face
with her knee. She let go and watched him fall to the floor, unconscious. His
gun fell beside him. She scooped it up and moved toward the front door.

Sinclair stepped inside, his phone
in one hand, pistol in the other. Both were down by his waist. The phone
pointed toward the floor. The pistol toward her.

“What are you doing, Clarissa?” he
said.

She took a step back, nodded toward
Randy.

“What did he do to you?” Sinclair
said.

“Nothing,” she said. “Preemptive
strike.”

“What do you plan to do now?”

“Help Jack.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t tell you.”

She noticed that he cast a quick
glance over her shoulder. A third man entered the room. She had not been aware
of the guy. Clarissa moved too late. Thick arms wrapped around her, met in the
middle, interlocked hands pressed into her chest. She kicked and thrashed to
the side, threw a reverse head butt that missed. Each movement resulted in the
grip around her growing tighter.

Randy pushed himself up off the
floor and charged. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Enough, Randy,” Sinclair said.
“You more than likely deserved what she did to you.”

Randy stopped five feet away from
her. He looked like a deranged bull, bloodied and battered and ready to tear
off the matador’s head.

“Go get my bag,” Sinclair said.

Randy walked up to Clarissa, spit
at her feet, then continued past.

“Don’t dare do that again,”
Sinclair said. He turned his attention back to Clarissa. “Just relax, child.
You need to calm down.”

She choked back her tears. “I need
to help Jack.”

“The best thing you can do is stay
out of his way.”

“I have something that can help
him.”

“Nothing can help him now, I’m
afraid.”

Clarissa didn’t believe that. She
couldn’t believe that.

Randy entered the room and handed
Sinclair his bag. The same worn bag he’d carried when she first met him over
six months ago. Clarissa wondered how the guy had managed to get it through
customs. She realized he hadn’t had to deal with customs. Not the way they
traveled. He could have left from Langley and landed on base in England. They
all had luggage with false bottoms and hidden compartments. Even if they were
stopped, no one would ever find what they had.

“Don’t,” she pleaded.

“It’s for your own good,” he said.

“Please, Sinclair,” she said. “Just
let me go.”

Sinclair approached her. He
adjusted the needle in his hand.

Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Rage more than anything else. Through blurred vision, she watched as drip after
drip of the evil liquid fell from the tip of the long needle. Sinclair reached
out, grabbed her jaw, plunged the needle into her neck.

Clarissa whipped her head side to
side the moment he let go. She kicked, thrashed, and screamed. She thought she
did, at least.

The room shrunk, dimmed, hazed
over.

Slowly, quietly, calmly, she fell
asleep.

From the back of the car, Dottie
watched the images of the agents escorting Jack out of the house. The gurney
carrying Alex toward the ambulance followed. The bloodstained sheets, tubes in
his mouth and into his lungs, and the speed at which they traveled told her
that Jack had done as she requested. Not perfectly, but good enough. The
problem was that Jack had always been better than good enough. At the same
time, good enough meant that she could find someone to finish the job. They
didn’t have to be as good as Jack Noble.

Only good enough.

“You think he can do this?” she
said to Godfrey.

“Yes, ma’am,” Godfrey said.

The guy with the red beard turned
in the seat. “Ma’am, I’m more than capable of—”

“Shut up,” she said. “I wasn’t
talking to you. I was talking to Godfrey.”

The relationship was an old one.
Twenty years ago, when Dottie was rising in the ranks, Godfrey had just come on
board. They’d worked together, remained close. He’d done everything she’d asked
up to this point. She knew he’d do one last task for her. And if he failed, it
wouldn’t matter. There was no way they’d be able to locate her after today.

But she couldn’t risk his life yet,
and that’s why they brought this man along to take care of the prime minister.

She had hoped to be able to make
the final call to Jack after they’d left England. Perhaps from the stern of the
boat as it coasted through the Celtic Sea. But when she realized Jack and Alex
had located the house where Mia and Hannah were being kept, she had to act
quickly.

“Where are you taking us?” Hannah said.

Dottie looked back at the young
woman, smiled. “Someplace safe, dear.”

And she meant it. She’d keep Hannah
safe as long as the woman did what she was told, when she was told. She had no
reason to harm her. She also had no reason to keep her around for much longer.
The moment she stepped out of line, that would be it.

Hannah comforted Mia. That had been
the worst part for Dottie. She hated to threaten her great-niece’s life. But
bargaining chips were called so for a reason. When it came down to it, Dottie’s
life was most important. If people she cared about had to fall along the way,
so be it.

The car came to a stop. Godfrey
opened his door and stepped out. He met the other man at the front of the car
and shook his hand.

“Good luck,” Dottie muttered.

Godfrey reentered the car, put it
into gear and pulled away from the curb, leaving the man behind.

“What’s he going to do?” Hannah
said.

Dottie didn’t respond.

Betrayed didn’t begin to describe
the way Hannah felt. Dottie had been like a grandmother to her. Kind and warm,
Dottie had invited the young woman into her home and made her a part of the
family. The past two years would have never led Hannah to believe that the
woman could be so cold and cruel. Dottie had threatened to kill Mia. When
Hannah spoke up, Dottie slapped her across the face. Three times. With a book.

Now, it hurt when she opened her
mouth and when she turned her head.

Mia leaned into her. The child’s
fingers intermingled with hers and squeezed tightly. Poor thing, she thought.
To have to suffer through this ordeal. Hannah held out hope that Dottie would
drop them off on a corner. She wanted to plead for that very thing, but feared
retribution.

She turned her head and watched the
buildings pass. They drove west, away from the city. She had no idea where they
were going. Dottie hadn’t mentioned it to the man who had gotten out a few
minutes prior, or to the guy driving. She suspected that was because the guy
who left them was not going to rejoin the group. What did he plan to do? Could
anything be worse than forcing Jack to shoot the Prime Minister?

Her eyes began to water. She choked
back a sob and waited as long as she could before sniffling. Dottie turned her
head, looked Hannah up and down, then shifted her gaze forward. The same images
replayed on the small screen in front of the woman. Jack being led from the
house, the Prime Minister being taken out of the house on a gurney, and the
ambulance heading toward a hospital.

That’s why the man had gotten out.
She saw that now. As best as Hannah could remember, there was a hospital
located two blocks from that corner.

The tears fell across her cheeks. A
man was about to die. Not just any man, either. The Prime Minister. She had
advanced knowledge of it, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Please God,
she thought.
Wake
me from this nightmare.

The agents took Jack underground.
There he switched cars and reunited with Jon and Bear and Sasha. There was no
holding her back now. They headed toward the hospital.

“Any reports?” Jack said.

“He’s doing fine,” Jon said.
“You’re a good shot.”

“I don’t see how they’re ever going
to let me back in this country after shooting the Prime Minister.”

Jon nodded. “Yeah, I wouldn’t count
on it.”

Sasha leaned over and in front of
Bear, who inconveniently sat in the middle between her and Jack. “At least he
has the power to pardon you. You might make it out all right after all.”

The driver flipped on the sirens
and the strobe lights and the thick London traffic split in two. Occasionally
the driver had to weave to the left or the right, even slammed on the brakes
twice. Other than that, they raced down the streets. He estimated they were
doing over sixty in spots where cars normally crawled along like turtles.

Twenty minutes later they entered
the hospital parking lot. The front entrance was jam-packed with news trucks
that had their booms and antennas extended into the sky. Reporters and
cameramen hovered outside the front door. Police created a barricade. A
disaster, really. Those who needed help from the hospital would have trouble on
this day.

So the driver continued around to
the side where four police officers waited for them. One came up to the
passenger side of the SUV, the side that faced the hospital. He opened the
front and rear doors. The man extended his hand for Sasha. She angled her body
to avoid him.

The cop stepped back when Bear
stuck his leg out.

“What, no hand for me?”

The cop looked unsure of what to do
next. Bear’s laughter sent him back toward the unassuming hospital door propped
open an inch.

“Follow me,” the cop said as he
stepped inside. He led them through empty passages. The guy’s partner picked up
the rear.

Jack figured the halls were empty
on purpose. He’d inconvenienced not only the sick who needed the hospital
today, but also the staff. Nothing new, in a way. He’d become used to being a
nuisance.

They reached a hallway where four
agents Jack recognized from Number 10 stood. This had to be where Alex was
being kept.

“Right in there,” the guard said,
his finger extended.

Jon entered the room first, then
Sasha. When Jack entered, Alex greeted him with a nod and slight smile.

“How’s it feel?” Jack said.

“Pretty bad,” Alex said. “But,
they’ve numbed it up and given me some pain killers. Nothing too strong,
though, so don’t ask for any. This isn’t over.” Alex paused and waited until
everyone smiled or laughed at his joke. “Fortunately, I’m left handed, so my
shot won’t be affected.”

“You’re not involved in this
anymore,” Jon said.

“Like hell I’m not.”

“Alex, listen to him,” Sasha said.

“I want to face her and ask her
why. Why did she want to kill me? Why did she threaten this man’s child in an
effort to have me dead? Surely there had to be better ways than this.”

No one said anything.

“What’s the plan now?” Jack said.

“We’ve got bait in another hall,”
Jon said.

“Meaning?”

“A man, brain dead after an
accident. He’s bloated and unrecognizable and on life support. He’s got hair
like Alex’s though, so—”

“He’s being passed off as the Prime
Minister, near death,” Jack said.

Jon nodded. “We figure she’ll send
someone to take care of him.”

“Who’s watching?” Bear said.

“Plenty of people,” Sasha said. “A
whole damn team is set up near the room.”

“We should get Alex out of here
then,” Jack said.

“No,” Alex said. “Not yet. I want
to question whoever is sent.”

“Those pain killers are going to
your head,” Jon said.

Alex smiled. Upon further
inspection, Jack would agree with Jon’s statement.

“Surely Dottie would expect that
you’d be heavily guarded,” Jack said.

“I think she’s lost it, Jack,” Jon
said. “She’s acting completely irrational. How did she plan to ever get away
with this? It’s impossible.”

Jack wondered if she did plan to
get away with it. Any of it. The whole thing, he realized, had been a setup,
right from the very beginning. She hadn’t brought him here to kill Thornton.
She already had that planned. She brought him here so he could die. Why?